


Like Nobody's Waching

by c3mf



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Dancing, Fluff, Gen, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 22:26:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c3mf/pseuds/c3mf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a friendly reminder that Douglas met all the loves of his life at weddings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Nobody's Waching

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fractionallyfoxtrot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractionallyfoxtrot/gifts).



The wedding is a tiny affair--simple ceremony, good company. The garden is strung full of white fairy lights and the catering is halfway decent. It’s all very… tasteful. Frankly, Douglas is impressed Arthur managed it himself. 

“It’s nice, this,” Martin muses over his wine--fourth glass of the night Douglas notes. Martin’s cheeks are tinged pink, his gaze a tad bleary and his speech slurred with the endearing edge of a lisp he always keeps so painstakingly hidden.

“Of course, it’s nice,” Douglas says. “The happy couple would hardly settle for anything less.” Or anything more, because Carolyn would be damned if she had to spend a penny more on some _overly-emotional and frivolous display of commitment--ha!_ And Herc, enormous sop that he is, would ignore it all because she deserved better. 

All disgustingly sentimental, really. As Douglas watches them dance, he can’t help but smile.

Martin has, predictably, come alone, and Arthur has stolen Douglas’s dancing partner--or rather, Miranda has stolen Arthur and is leading him patiently through the steps and smiling wide enough to light up her whole face.

Right. Nothing for it, then. Douglas drains his water, stands, and offers his hand. “Shall we?”

All he receives in return is a blank stare.

“It’s impossible to dance alone, you know. And illegal.”

Martin snorts. “No, it isn’t.”

“Damn. Have another glass of wine and I’ll try again.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“Perfect, neither am I. Let’s dance.”

Martin’s shoulders twitch awkwardly and he swirls his wine. “Dance with Miranda,” he says. “She’d love it.”

With a sigh, Douglas stands behind Martin’s chair and points. “Have a look and tell me you could pull her away.”

Martin does look, and then promptly buries his nose in his glass.

“That’s what I thought.” With a smile, Douglas circles round Martin’s chair and offers his hand again. “Shall we?”

A pause, long enough for Martin’s flush to deepen and he gulps down the rest of his wine. “Fine,” he says, standing and tugging his suit jacket straight. “But I lead.”

Douglas’s smile only widens. “Of course, _sir_.”


End file.
